Alchemisland

I’ve got the blood of the dragon

Blunt on which I’m dragging

Was Anthony Blunt a royal bastard?

Blown up yacht of the royal paederast

Not one royal rat isn’t at it

My rusty wagon’s occupied backseat ratchet

On the backstreets like backstreet’s back

Cuts coming, like imminent flak scratch

Cunts coming, stainpaint heart black

Amount I take to straighten my patience assures a heart attack

I am sustained by the irregular wages of alchemical operations

Lights flickering like a vape sucked for ages by a Druids supping teenager

They’ll still be there when our era is ancient, plastic unrecantable statement

A single rude statement from your rotgum casement, foot placement Cantana

Li’l skin in dad’s docs and hardshaw frocks causing mayhem on the docks

Finished my mocks to much open mockery, name misspelt points docked

Every door to me is locked, fringe floppy I’m getting locked gach seachtain

Results in and they’re shocking, even to me who did no homework or study

Should have locked in like a crypto bro, now even shit colleges are a no go

Togo, in a yellow toga failing to cross the Rubicon, Sambation

What is with these rivers that stymy action? 

Lose my last hundred quid on baccarat, sometimes down sometimes up

Suck the gunbarrel, lead and flesh married, bullet in the brain

Short circuit once I shot my sulcus, surface to air my blownoff hair

Like a wig in bad weather, here to there on the gale

Waiting for the whistle saying now cross the salient, face that pale

Fugues fudges funeral suits, repairing to the airy subterfuge

Leaving that place where I felt placeless, gaining a face, fresh make up

I couldn’t escape, I couldn’t see any way to shake it up

My eyes were edged with hairlike blood, smoking up often as I could

Habit forming kush too much for me once my brain became mush

Thrush how I’m scratching arm inners blush coloured

Self harming, long sleeves keep carved scarred arms covered

Wish I had been pillow smothered by my mother when I was younger

Keeper but not of my brother, I have bothered little tending the blood

We are a cruel brood but the root is easily produced, trees and shoots.